Always Leave Them Limp

Pro football, after all, is show business--and everybody knows that there is no showman like an old showman. At 37, Quarterback Y. A. Tittle of the New York Giants is only two years younger than Jack Benny; he wears high-button cleats, laments his departed hair, and eats meatball sandwiches before each game because he thinks they bring him luck. At 33, Giant Halfback Frank Gifford is the man in the collar ads, the face that launched a thousand razor-blade commercials. Each has a special talent: Tittle throws a football better than anybody (60% completion average, a record 36 TD passes this year), and Gifford catches it better than most.

Last week in icy (25DEG) Yankee Stadium, they entertained the Pittsburgh Steelers in their final performance of the regular season and put on an act that nobody in the crowd of 63,240* is likely to forget. In the process, they also won the Giants their third straight Eastern Conference championship, taking it all away from the Steelers in the second act.

Hot Potato. The first routine was purest comedy--a sort of take-off on that old kids' game, hot potato. With a first down on the Pittsburgh five, Tittle pitched back to Gifford, who started around left end. Oops! Too many Steelers. So Gifford lateraled to Center Greg Larson, who looked at the ball and lateraled to Y. A. Tittle, who looked at the Steelers again. Now, Tittle is no coward, but there are no 37-year-old fools in pro football, either. Back it went to Gifford, who was now over on the right sideline looking for someplace to hide. And he lobbed it in the general direction of Giant End Aaron Thomas--but only in the general direction. As confused as everybody else, the referee assessed the Giants 15 yds. on general principles. "Y. A. was laughing," said Gifford. "I should have tossed it right back--that would really have fractured him."

By halftime, the Giants had a 16-3 lead, but Tittle, being a nut on insurance (he even sells it in his spare time), buttonholed Gifford in the locker room. "What do you think you can do with that guy?" he asked, meaning Glenn Glass, the Steeler defensive halfback. "He's playing me to go outside," answered Gifford. Aha, thought Tittle--and stored the information away for emergency use. The emergency came early in the third quarter: the Steelers had closed the gap to 16-10, and the Giants faced a third down and eight on their own 23--"third and long," as the pros say. All game long, Gifford had been running sideline-pass patterns; all game long, Glass had been on him like Scotch tape. Tittle ordered "wing zig-in"--a pass to Gifford over the middle.

Now for the Circus. Gifford never was very fast, and after eleven seasons he may even have lost a step or two. But he does have one advantage over defensive halfbacks who run the 100 in 9.5 sec.: "I know where I'm going--they don't." Daintily, he trotted out to the flank in his sneakers. The ball was snapped, and he ran straight up to Glass, dipped his right shoulder as if to cut toward the sideline, then whirled and streaked across the field--leaving Glass with his legs hopelessly crossed. Tittle threw--and for a long instant the ball seemed hopelessly out of reach. But no. At the last second, Gifford doubled over, stretched out his right hand, and--plop--the ball landed in his palm for a 30-yd. gain. "I was only trying to bat it up in the air, but it stuck in my hand," said Gifford modestly. "I figured he had it all along," yawned Tittle, who has seen the same circus act all year.

Two plays later (another pass to Gifford, a pass to Fulback Joe Morrison), the Giants had their insurance touchdown. The final score (33-17) was immaterial: the Giants had won--and it was Gifford's catch that did the job. "That was the turning point," moaned Pittsburgh Coach Buddy Parker. "It would have been a different game if Gifford hadn't caught the ball."

Next week, the show goes on the road when the Giants meet the Western Conference's Chicago Bears in the National Football League playoff. The Giants rank No. 1 in total offense (359 yds. per game) and scoring (32 points per game). Chicago, which beat Detroit for the Western title in the final game, leads in defense, has allowed 14 opponents only 227 yds. and 10 points per game. The early-line odds makers make it Giants 11-10, or just about even. The only grumble is that Chicago's Wrigley Field holds an audience of only 46,000. But cheer up, Y. A. and Frank. Another 42 million fans will be watching on TV. And that's almost as good as the Beverly Hillbillies.

* The Giants' seventh sellout in seven home games, giving them estimated gate receipts of $2,200,000 v. $3,000,000 for the baseball Yankees in 68 home dates last season.

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